In the lobby she sat down and her husband regarded her anxiously. Normally, she had the most wonderful flower-like complexion--I mean naturally, without artifi- cial aid--of any woman I had ever met. Now she was pale, and her wonderful eyes mirrored a sort of mysterious horror.
"Are you sure, Kara? Are you sure?" Petrie asked with deep concern.
"Could I ever be wrong about him? "
"When you are safely upstairs, dear," he replied, "I am going back to confirm your suspicion--or disprove it. "
"But," I exclaimed, "whatever is wrong? "
"He is here. "
"What do you mean, Mrs. Petrie? Who is here?"
She looked up at me, and for all her pallor I knew how beautiful she was. I thought that if those strange, wonderful eyes had beckoned to me before I had known Rima, I should have followed wherever they led. She was, indeed, very lovely, and very terrified; and: "It seems like madness," she whispered; "but about this I can never be mistaken. If I had not seen, I should have felt. But I saw. "
"Do you understand, Greville," Petrie interrupted tersely, "my wife saw--I can't doubt her; she has never been wrong on this point--someone looking out from a window above a shop in Burlington Arcade. "
"I know it is madness, but I know it is true," she said.
"When?" I demanded.
"A moment ago. "
"But do you mean--"
Mrs. Petrie nodded.
Her eyes were tragic. She stood up.
"I am going upstairs," she said. "No, truly, I'm quite all right again. Go back, or it may be too late. But take Mr. Greville with you."
She walked towards the lift, whilst Petrie and I watched her. As she entered and the lift went up:
"It seems simply incredible to me," I declared. "But do you mean that in a room over a shop in Burlington Arcade-- "
"A dealer in Oriental jewellery, yes!" Petrie took me up quickly. "I could see nothing--the room above was in darkness-- but Karamaneh saw Dr. Fu Manchu looking down!"
6
I wondered if Nayland Smith would have approved of Petrie's method of inquiry. Personally, I thought it admirable, for as we entered the establishment, oddly reminiscent, as many are in the Arcade, of a shop in an Eastern bazaar:
"My wife came along this afternoon," said Petrie, "and noticed a large Chinese figure in the room above. She asked me to call and learn the price."
The salesman, who would not have been out of place in any jewel market of the Orient, except for the fact that he wore a well-cut morning coat, raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was leaning upon a case containing typical Levantine exhibits, and all sorts of beaded necklaces framed him about. I thought that, saving the presence of civilised London around us, he might, considered alone, have been termed a sinister figure.
"The room above, sir," he replied "is not my property. It is used as a store-room by another firm. See"--he turned--"the stair is there, but the door is locked. I have a case upon it as you may observe for yourself. That door is very rarely opened. And I assure you it contains no Chinese figure."
He made no attempt to sell us anything.
But outside, in the Arcade,we both stared up at the window above the shop. The room to which it belonged appeared to be empty. Petrie shrugged.
"She has never been wrong before," he said significantly. "And the gentleman with whom we have been chatting gives one the shudders. "
"I agree, but what can we do? "
"Nothing," he replied.
Turning, we walked back to the Park Avenue Hotel. The journey was a short one, but long enough for me to tell Petrie of my encounter in the corridor. He stopped as we reached the comer of Berkeley Street, and:
"There's some very black business under- lying all this, Greville," he said. "We've lost the best man of the lot already. Now it looks as though the arch-devil had taken personal charge. Where's Weymouth? "
"Gone to Victoria, I expect. Yale was with him."
Petrie nodded.
"If you weren't mistaken, Greville, it looks as though the danger to Swazi Pasha is here, in London. If my wife isn't mistaken--it's a certainty! We can at least learn the name of the man you saw; because in dealing with Dr. Fu Manchu and his Burmans I don't believe in coincidences!"
We consulted the reception clerk and learned without difficulty that the room, of which I naturally remembered the number, was occupied by a Mr. Solkel, of Smyrna.
"Has he stayed here before?" Petrie asked.
No. It was Mr. Solkel's first visit.
"Thank you," said Petrie, and as we walked towards the lift:
"Mr. Solkel, of Smyrna," he mused. "I don't like the sound of him. "
"I don't like the look of him! "
"Yet it is just possible you were wrong; and so--what can we do?"
We went up to Petrie's sitting-room where his wife, apparently recovered, was waiting to receive us.
She smiled, her gaze set on Petrie's face; and I wondered if Rima would greet me with a smile like that. He simply shook his head and ran his fingers through her beautiful hair.
"I knew," she whispered; and although she continued bravely to smile, there was horror in her eyes.
"He is so clever! But I was right!"
A nameless but chill foreboding possessed my mind. I believe the others shared it. I was thinking of the man who had gone out to meet this menace, and had come to his end, alone against many, in that damnable house in Kharga. But, Petrie now ringing for cock- tails, we all tried to show a bold front to our troubles. Yet even as I raised my glass I seemed to detect, like a sort of patrol, the approach of something; not as a memory, but as words spoken eerily, to hear a bell-like voice:
"I am so lonely, Shan...."
For days and nights, for weeks, I had lain in her power... the witch-woman; daughter of this fiend incarnate, Dr. Fu Manchu. "She is evil, evil..." Rima had said. And I knew it for truth. Much as we had all suffered, I felt that worse was to come. I could hear the cheery, familiar roar of London's traffic beneath me; sometimes, dimly, I could catch snatches of conversation in the adjoining apartment, occupied by an enthusiastic Amer- ican traveller and his wife.
Everything was so safe, so normal. Yet I knew, I could not venture to doubt, that some climax in the incredible business which had blotted out a month of my life and had brought Sir Lionel Barton to the edge of eternity, was creeping upon us.
7
"Thank goodness that part of the business is over," said Weymouth. "There were no official formalities, as the Pasha is still indisposed. He was all silk mufflers and fur collar. He has only one secretary with him. The other members of his suite are staying at the Platz over the way. He's safe indoors, anyhow. "
"Safe?" Mrs Petrie echoed and laughed unhappily. "After what I have told you. Superintendent?"
Weymouth's kindly face looked very grim, and he exchanged a troubled glance with Petrie; then:
"She never used to be wrong, doctor," he confessed. "Honestly, I don't know what to make of it. I sent a man around directly I got the news. But of course the shop was closed and locked. I don't know what to make of it," he repeated. The woman was rapidly becoming a nightmare to me, but if the Doctor in person has appeared on the scene..."
He spread his hands in a helpless gesture; and we were all silent for some time. Then Weymouth stood up:
"It's very nice of you, Mrs. Petrie," he said, "to ask me to dine with you. I have one or two little jobs to do downstairs, first--and I'm going to have another shot to get a look at Mr. Solkel. It isn't really my case." He smiled in the awkwardly boyish manner which made the man so lovable. "But I've been retained as a sort of specialist, and Yale is good enough to be glad. "
"I suppose," said Petrie, as Weymouth made for the door, "there are detectives on duty in the hotel? "
"Five, with Fletcher in charge. That should be enough. But I'm worried about Mr. Solkel. His official description doesn't corre- spond with yours, Greville. For one thing, they tell me he wears glasses, is in delicate health, and keeps to his room constantly. However...."